All Things Beautiful
by blergblerg
Summary: "Sometimes he wondered why Yumichika even bothered to interact with him in the first place. Why? It wasn't even worth his time. Did he do it purposefully? Just to make Ikkaku feel even more inferior and insecure?" ... (warning - language; a bit of melodramatic angst; yaoi lime at the end)
1. Secrets

"Yumichika …"

" … Nani?"

"Let's play a game."

"Oh, and just what kind of game might you have in mind?" questioned the beauty, arching a brow, amethyst orbs gazing seductively at his partner through fluttering eyelashes, as long pale fingers twirled a strand of glossy black hair.

Ikkaku did his best to avoid those alluring eyes, fixedly staring at an unsightly blemish on the wooden floor. He actually, really, _truly_ wanted to play a different kind of game this time. A game which might be identified in the Human World as 'Twenty Questions'.

Supposedly, he had known Yumi since their Rukongai days, yet sometimes, the bald shinigami wondered just how much his lover was keeping from him. As friends, and now as a couple, Ikkaku barely _knew_ anything more than the fifth seat's likes and dislikes, and, well, sweet spots. If that counted. Oh, yes, he knew how to make him moan, scream, _beg_ … But that was part of the problem. Ikkaku shook his head with a growl, rashly punching a hole through the paper thin walls. He could take out his frustration in no other way.

Sometimes he wondered why Yumichika even bothered to interact with him in the first place. Why? It wasn't even worth his time. Did he do it purposefully? Just to make Ikkaku feel even more inferior and insecure? He could imagine Yumi's petite, lithe, graceful form under his own bulky, graceless body. Yumi's soft, creamy alabaster skin as he ran his own rough, scarred hands over it. Every morning, as Ikkaku gently combed his lover's silky ebony locks, he felt a sharp pang at his bald reflection staring back at him through the mirror. But perhaps what tortured him most of all was his smile. No matter when or why, if Yumichika graced the world with his smile's irresistible charm, anyone would melt. Ikkaku, on the other hand, could never manage more than a maniacal grin which drove people away and frightened the little ones to tears. Yes, the third seat wondered almost every moment _why_ Yumi was with him. Was he not disgusted to be even caught _near_ a hideous creature like himself?

The next thing he realized, that very beauty was kneeling in front of him, a concerned gaze boring into his own, warm hands stroking his cheek, tenderly wiping his eyes. Wait - wiping his eyes? Once again, Ikkaku groaned, simultaneously humiliated and infuriated with himself. He, the third seat of the 11th squad, crying? Over such a trivial matter as appearances? No, no, _no_. All that mattered was strength, power, battle. Yet, even as he tried to convince himself so, Ikkaku knew that this was not true. Somewhere along the way, things had changed. _He_ had changed. Now, all that really mattered was simply Yumichika.

"Ikkaku," softly admonished the said man, breaking his thoughts, "You don't look beautiful when you cry…"

* * *

Yumichika gasped in surprise as suddenly, he was pinned down to the cold floor, Ikkaku grasping his wrists tightly with one hand, using the other to support himself over the smaller man.

"Ik-Ikkaku, stop," he whimpered, caught off guard. What had gotten into his beloved, he absolutely could not fathom. Before they had begun to have a romantic relationship, everything had seemed fine. Yet, during the past five months, Yumichika had started to notice Ikkaku changing, and not quite for the better. He would be melancholy, then elated, then melancholy again, and this cycle just kept continuing. If this was how things were going to be, then perhaps it would be better if they went back to simply being good friends. No matter how much it would hurt himself, Yumichika could not stand to see Ikkaku in pain. Battle was one aspect of life, but the heart was entirely another.

Of course, he could see that something was bothering his love. He was no fool. Despite this, as much as he hated to admit it, he was a coward regarding such matters. He could not bring himself to ask just _what_.

So, at the moment, as Yumichika found himself trapped between the ground and Ikkaku, the latter's salty tears dripping down onto his own face, it was his turn to sigh haplessly. Relinquishing a futile struggle, he resigned himself to glancing anywhere - the walls, the ceiling, the furniture - anywhere except his darling's saddened eyes. However, when Ikkaku eventually loosened the vise like grip on his lover's delicate wrists, he gingerly reached up to caress the sniffling shinigami's face.

* * *

Ikkaku shied away, ducking his head to the side as Yumi's fingertips brushed his cheek, leaving a tingling sensation. Perhaps at another time he would have welcomed this gesture, but right now, his heart was wallowing in the depths of self-loathing. He could not stand to dirty those beautiful, dainty hands by tainting them with the touch of his skin.

* * *

By this point, Yumichika had really had enough of Ikkaku's childish behaviour. Deserting any efforts to be gentle, the petite man firmly grabbed a calloused hand between his two, and, ignoring the other's half-assed struggle to pull away, held it close to his own heart, hoping that his thick headed Ikkaku would understand that Yumi loved him and only him, come what way. The two sat together in silence, ensnared in a tender embrace, yet, even as the tension in the atmosphere dissipated, Yumichika was uneasy, his mind restless. His dilemma had not yet been settled: To ask. Or not to ask.

His thoughts raced. What if he asked what the problem was but couldn't do anything to help Ikkaku solve it? That would make matters worse, wouldn't it? Ikkaku would hate him - he would lose his confidence in Yumichika, he would stop trusting Yumichika. And then the relationship would end, and what's worse, even their friendship - which had taken decades to build - would be destroyed. Everything that mattered to Yumichika would be obliterated … he was _afraid_ … he didn't want to mess up _again_, be utterly useless all over _again_. His pulse quickened, his breath unsteady. Yet, looking at Ikkaku's forlorn expression, Yumichika steeled his nerves and unbeautifully spewed -

"Wassamatta?"

Ikkaku sat up from his resting place on his partner's lap and blinked in confusion.

"Eh?"

Yumichika gulped audibly, sucked in a deep breath, and, bracing himself for the worst, repeated, "What's wrong?"

…

That's it. Two words. And they would change both of their lives forever.

* * *

A/N :

Well, that's the end of Part I. Haha, "lives" should really be changed to "afterlives", shouldn't it?

Anyway, in the mean time, reviews are much appreciated! :)


	2. Trust

Ikkaku raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. Of all the things, he hadn't actually expected Yumichika to ask him what the problem was. Or rather, he was afraid that replying would just make the situation a hell lot more uncomfortable than it already had become. He cleared his throat deliberately, trying to gain time. Just how should he put it, in order to preserve the remainder of his dignity and to avoid making Yumichika feel awkward as well? Truth be told, he was at loss of words. Fishing for diplomatic tactics was far from third seat's cup of tea. An exhausted sigh escaped as the shinigami came uncharacteristically close to giving up on his attempts.

Yumichika was drumming his fingers, impatient. Ikkaku could've sworn that the 5th seat looked even more uncomfortable than himself, and briefly wondered why.

"Are you going to spit it out or not!?" Black eyebrows furrowed and rosy lips pouted in irritation.

Oh no, the last think Ikkaku needed right now was a tantrum, and he could imagine quite clearly the timer inside Yumi's mind ticking - 5, 4, 3, 2, - - -

"Alright, well," Ikkaku began, averting his eyes. "I want to know more about you and such - - "

"How stupid do you think I am?"

Ikkaku cringed.

"Really, here I'm actually trying to help you, and you don't even care about that! Don't you trust me? All you can think about is yourself! You and your stupid ego! You're such a self-centered idiot! Cueball! Baldy! I'm not talking to you again! You're fugly!"

Okay. That. Was. The last straw.

"That's it, Yumi! There's only so much that I can take! You narcissistic jackass! Who's the selfish one here? If you actually wanted to help me, you'd try to understand how I feel. You're so fucking superficial! You just want to _show_ that you care. That's all! I mean nothing to you, do I?"

* * *

The door slammed in Yumichika's face as Ikkaku stalked out. His eyes dropped to the floor, welling with tears. A silky pink kimono sleeve came up to dab them.

'What have I done? I've fucked up again. Damnit, I really am superficial, aren't I? I'm the worst. I hate it. I hate myself. I wish I could die all over again'. This time, droplets leaked from his eyes, trickling down pale cheeks to stain the floor.

Ikkaku paced furiously about the squad barracks, head bowed and hands curled into fists. No-one, not even the pesky lieutenant, came within a twenty-foot radius of the scowling third seat. 'God damn him! God damn him and his obsession with beauty! And god damn me! Why the fuck did I have to go and do that? Crap, do I really have such a big ego? Fuck. Fuck everything. The asshole's probably crying right now, and it's all my fucking fault.'

* * *

The door creaked open softly. Nervous footsteps inched forward. Yumichika sat on the bed, facing away.

"Go away."

His voice was hoarse from crying.

Ikkaku placed a hand gently on the delicate shoulder.

"Leave me alone."

The voice trembled as if its owner could burst into tears at any moment.

"Yumichika, shit, I'm sorry. I'm really, really, sorry. Please forgive me. I never meant to hurt you like this."

The lithe body quivered.

"I love you, Yumi."

Yumichika pulled Ikkaku down, burying his face in his chest. The bigger man cradled him closer, placing soft kisses on his forehead.

"I love you too, Ikka. And … I'm sorry. It was my fault that I started it," the voice trembled again.

"Hush Yumi, let's forget about it, okay?"

Skinny arms wrapped themselves around Ikkaku's neck.

"Gomen … but … will you please trust me now, Ikka?" pleading amethyst eyes bore into slate grey ones.

"Promise you won't laugh at me?"

"I promise."

"All right then … I … don't know what … you see in me, or why you stick around me. I mean … I'm barely more attractive than Ganju! How am I even beautiful enough for you to like?"

Yumichika bit his lip, and, for once, looked completely serious as he faced his lover. There was no teasing, no comment about his bald head or squinty eyes.

"I'll tell you, but, …"

"But what?"

"But … only if … you promise, you won't hate me afterwards."

"Yumi, I promise, I won't ever hate you. Ever. No matter what. Not even if you lose all your hair and your skin becomes all wrinkly."

A smile tugged at the corners of Yumichika's mouth as he consented, "Okay, then settle in, because it's going to be a long story …"

* * *

A/N :

I hope you guys like the story so far.

Please don't forget to review - this is my first fanfic ever, so I'll be extremely thankful for any suggestions and critiques. :)


	3. Confession I

A/N :

Yue and Aiko are OCs created to fill in the plot.

This is Part I of Yumichika's story, as told by him in first person. The change in narration is intentional. Sorry about any confusion.

* * *

"Yumi-nii-san! Wake up!"

I groan.

"Nii-san! Wake up! Father will get mad again!"

Rat-a-tat-tat. Yue knocks on my bedroom door, insistent.

"Hurry!"

"Ugh, all right, all right, lil' sis," I stumble out of bed and crack open the door, just to assure her that I am, in fact, up. She grins, soft red lips widening into a smile. She's already dressed in her school uniform, with glossy black hair pulled back into a bun. Her amethyst eyes bore into mine as she reaches up to straighten out my hair - Father has ordered our barber to give me bowl cut, and though it looks absolutely hideous, no-one, absolutely no-one, goes against the Army General's wishes.

And I suffer for it. It's yet another on top of a long list of reasons why I hate waking up and going to school - or anywhere outside the house, for that matter. I'm always picked on, because I'm petite, frail, I wear makeup, my voice is like a girl's, I have long eyelashes, a dainty face, I can't fight or even defend myself … They call me Faggot, Gay, Freak, Drag Queen. But they don't know the half of it. I'm anorexic because those very people made fun of me for being fat in elementary school. I wear makeup to cover the bruises from Father's beatings. Even he can't stand looking at my face. He hates it. He hates me. He hates that I turned out the way I am, that I'm not the strong, brave son he wanted. That I'm not some handsome, buff young man who he can be proud of and show off as his son. Well, fuck that. I can't help it. I can't change my face, no matter how hard I try. And I can't change my voice either.

Yue is the only solace I have. Since Mom died, Father abuses me more and more often, and in the six years since she's been gone, I swear, there's not been a single day that I haven't been covered black and blue with bruises. Well, at least the purple ones match my eyes.

There's a deep scratch underneath my right eye from last night, and I quickly cover it with foundation. Father knows about the makeup. But although he beats me for it, calling me pussy, too afraid to show my scars, he never throws it away, like he's done with my designer clothes and hair products. He knows that he'll lose respect if people come to know the way that he treats me. And hell, he might even be put in prison for it. But he also knows that I'll never tell, that I love my little sister too much to tell. Heck, she's so god-damn innocent that she believes the lies I tell her - climbing trees to save pet cats, beating up bad guys who pick on little kids … I hate to admit it, but I guess a little part of me feels happy that she believes me. That she believes I'm a good big brother, someone she can look up to and admire. It would kill me if she knew the truth.

So for now, the morning is peaceful as I slip into the standard white button down shirt and grey pants. Father, reassured by Yue that I'm getting ready, has left for work - he freaking adores her, and has her convinced that he's some perfect, loving parent. I hate him for that - he's a beast. Sighing, I run a hand through my hair and try to get the bangs out of that stupid straight line, but it's to no avail as the silky strands just fall back into place once more. I sigh again and pull on the grey school blazer. It might be the middle of June and eighty-five degrees (Fahrenheit) outside, but I'd rather sweat all day than let anyone see the jagged razor cuts that cover my pale forearms and wrists.

Presently, I hear the front door creak open. Judging by the excited squeals that follow, Aiko, Yue's best friend, has arrived. Their laughter rises up the staircase to my room - a free, senseless, uninhibited sound that increases my agony. It's one thing to have a sibling rivalry, but it's another when you're jealous of them for having friends.

'F-R-I-E-N-D. Friend. What is a friend? Have I ever had one? What is it like to have one? What do you have to do to get one?' I ponder dejectedly as I trudge to school, alone. The two girls have gone ahead of me; the middle school is between our house and the high school, so they must have reached there by now. As much as I try to ignore it, I'm acutely aware of the stares I'm getting from the commuters on their way to work. I don't know why nobody else but me receives this treatment. Do I really stand out that much? Is it because of the hair? Or the blazer? Or do I just attract everything loathable in this world? 'Fuck.' It's at these moments that I'm tempted to just step out in the middle of the road and wait to get run over. To be freed. After all, nobody would miss me. Heck, definitely not father. Even Yue would get over it soon enough. It doesn't matter whether or not I exist. My existence is unnecessary. But, I'm too afraid to carry it through. What if I don't die and wind up disabled for life? Or in a coma? … I guess this is what Father is talking about when he calls me a no-good, cowardly disgrace to the family.

* * *

"Ayasegawa-san."

I twitch. Is someone calling me? No, that can't be - nobody ever wants to call me.

"Ayasegawa!"

The voice sounds kinda insistent. It's annoying.

"Oi! Ayasegawa Yumichika! Get your sleeping ass off that chair, come to the blackboard, and show us the proof for the quadratic equation!"

I stand up with a jolt, nearly knocking over the flimsy wooden desk. Crap. I dozed off in class again. Around me, the other students snicker, while sensei is seething with lividity.

"What are you waiting for, buffoon!? Or do you not understand japanese?"

"S-sorry, sensei," I stammer, averting my eyes.

I can hear the class burst into another fit of laughter. They're not even trying to hide it. Still staring at the floor, I drag my feet up the aisle. The ten meter walk suddenly seems miles and miles long. My face is red with embarrassment and I can feel myself shaking. Just as I pick up a piece of broken chalk, the bell dings thrice, indicating that the school day is over. I breathe a sigh of relief as everyone stampedes out. However, this relief is short-lived.

"Ayasegawa-san, from tomorrow onwards, I expect you to stand at the front of the classroom all day long as long as I am teaching. I have had enough of your disrespectful attitude towards me and education! Do you understand?"

I nod slowly, looking away as tears well up in my eyes. My backpack is left neglected as I dash outside, wanting desperately to be anywhere but here. The noisy hallways are crowded with students, talking and laughing. Everyone seems so fucking happy. It's fucking disgusting. I can't bear it anymore and duck into an unoccupied bathroom, double-checking to make sure no one has followed me. The last thing I need right now is some smart-ass guy coming up to tell me how how dreadfully inadequate I am.

By the time I finally come back out, the hallways are dead silent. There isn't a single soul in sight. The grandfather clock in the teachers' room chimes, indicating that it's four o'clock. Great. Just great. I've been crying inside the bathroom for nearly an hour. On the slightly brighter side, I might run into Yue as she leaves from her afterschool activities - I don't have the slightest clue why, but she insisted on joining the ikebana club. Father was against it at first, but her pleas eventually convinced him otherwise. I snort in frustration, trying to shake his thoughts away as I scamper down the stairs. Instead, I wonder what story I'll come up with for leaving late. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I imagine Yue's reaction when I tell her about voluntarily helping the sensei clean the chalkboard after class. She'll gaze at me with those innocent eyes full of admiration, and I'll feel whole for a while ...

Much to my confusion, I can't see lil' sis anywhere around the middle school. There's no way that she left early though, is there? I shrug, frowning, as I give the area one last glance and walk past it. I guess it's probably alright. She musta gone shopping with her friends or something.

… Boy, was I going to be in for a nasty surprise.

* * *

A/N :

Two more chapters to go! The next one will complete Yumichika's story.

Thank you to everyone who has faved, followed, and/or left reviews. I really appreciate it.


	4. Confession II

A/N :

Yumichika might seem rather OOC here, so I'm sorry if you weren't expecting that, but since this is essentially a back-story that serves to explain his _currently_ portrayed character, I hope you'll understand and bear with me.

* * *

Since Yue's nowhere to be seen, and the only reason I've been walking back home on the main road is to catch up with her, I decide that there's no reason for me to stay within the city. After all, there just so happens to be a maximum quota of how many scornful glances I can take in a single day. So I veer off the edge of the road, heading towards the forest and abandoned factories that lie beyond. I suppose Father will give me a sound hiding for being late coming back, but that's nothing I'm not used to. And besides, maybe I'll get to tell lil' sis that I wrestled a bear in the woods - it'll definitely be believable once I'm covered head to toe in bruises and cuts from his beatings. A chance to get some well-needed solitude, and then show-off in front of Yue? All in all, it's got to be worth it. Right?

Solitude really is exactly what I crave - what I need - right now. It's an insistent urge to get away. To get away from society and its bullshit. To get away from what it's done to me. The forest is a perfect escape.

In town, there's lots of horrible rumours that circulate about it. I've heard some at school, you know. It's pretty much the usual about such places - it's so impossible to navigate that there's been months-old corpses found of people that died from starvation; wild animals maul the unlucky forager to unidentifiable scraps; bands of psychopaths lurk, waiting to slowly, torturously kill any civilized person who comes by … Well, the list goes on, as you can imagine. It's certainly enough to keep a normal person from trespassing there. But, as you'll have it, I'm not regarded as normal.

To be perfectly honest, I think it's an inherent human tendency - if people don't understand something, they'll discriminate against it, since they're actually afraid of not knowing how it works. It's like that with me. People don't understand me, so they're cruel enough to spread mean gossip and make fun of me. And it's also like that with the forest. They don't understand it, so they make up stories about it that tarnish its reputation. That's part of the reason I feel a special kinship with this place. We connect. We don't judge each other, don't hurt each other. Just get along in silence.

I'm no stranger to these woods. The first time I came here was five years ago. That was also the first time I thought about suicide. It was the one year anniversary of Mom's death, and Father decided to commemorate it by drinking the whole night away. Luckily for me, I just happened to come back to the house at 3 a.m. after a shift at a gay bar in the outskirts of town. Seeing me wearing lipstick and eyeshadow, in a skimpy outfit that barely covered my body, Father lost it completely. His head snapped up from the table, the bottle of booze shattering too loudly in the silence. His bloodshot eyes bore into mine. They were wild, furious - past the point of reason, just filled to the brim with raw rage and loathing. I knew then that my game was up. Everything was over. Too shocked and terrified to say a single word, I stood helplessly rooted to that one spot. I couldn't process any of the curses that Father must have been yelling until his fist was suddenly right before my eyes, and when he drew it back, it was covered with my blood. Then, three words. "Get out, filth."

Well, at least he loved Mom enough to bear with me for a whole year after she left.

* * *

Sooner than expected, I reach a point where the ancient trees start to dwindle, growing smaller and farther apart, letting the harsh afternoon sun cut through the shadows to shine on the already dying, burnt blades of grass. Beyond here lies a sort of ghost factory town, a place that past engineers toiled to expand, only to have it ultimately fall apart at the hands of corrupt businessmen. Funny how one man's dreams can be crushed by another's greed ... or perhaps, everything is but a battle of different greeds.

I carefully pick my way down the hill to the dusty road laying at its base, cursing as jagged shards of rock dig through the paper-thin soles of my cheap school-mandated shoes. I still don't know where I'm going, but who cares? I take one last leap, finally landing with a loud "umpf" on flat ground. A cloud of dust billows up from the impact, and I cough helplessly as it attacks my nose and eyes and mouth. Once the sickly yellow haze clears up, the monstrously large, shiny metal structures become visible. Wiping my still-watering eyes, I gaze at them with a sense of fearful awe. They're gleaming bright, almost white, with this angle of the sunlight - a symbol of human ambition that defiantly stands in stark contrast to the lush green depths of the forest just a few meters away. An involuntary shiver runs through my body even as beads of sweat trickle down my forehead. Standing here, I feel too exposed. Vulnerable. Naked, almost. Every fiber in my body is silently urging me to turn back - to take refuge in the dark shadows of the trees, where nothing can see me.

Apart from the oppressive blocks of metal looming ahead, the landscape looks desolate and barren - remnant of a project deemed unworthy and abandoned halfway. There is a stifling silence burdening the air, disturbed only by the occasional cawing of crows. It is my first time coming this far from the city. As I try to decide whether to listen to my instinct and leave, something on the pathway catches my eye. Surprisingly, it's a pair of footsteps! They're very faint, the impressions in the dry, sandy dirt muddled by the wind. But there they are. That means someone has been here - and pretty recently, too!

I feel a thrill, a small rush of adrenaline pulses through me. Who could it be? Maybe it's someone like me, somebody whom I can relate to? Haha, well, that sure would be a first! But, maybe it's worth going ahead to find out. The summer sun won't set until very late, anyway, which means there are still several hours left before nightfall.

* * *

My wristwatch blinks 19:57 - it's been nearly an hour since I started to trail the footprints. I'm standing in a tiny clearing, surrounded on all sides by factories. For the first time in my life, I feel claustrophobic. No matter how much I crane my neck, I see just their thick, bulky towers reaching up to adamantly challenge the sky. Whichever direction I turn in, enormous sheets of blank metal meet my gaze. It seems as if they're mocking me, ridiculing me for being afraid of them, just like Father. Fuck. I desperately needed to get away from everything - that's why I'm here. So why are thoughts about him still clawing at my mind? I want to shout out loud at the damn buildings, proving to them that I'm not daunted by them. But the atmosphere is weighing down on me. It's pin-drop silent, except for a lonely gust of wind echoing through the unoccupied structures. I've walked so far away from the woods that even the crows aren't venturing here. There's absolutely no sign of life, and I'm starting to wonder if I had been hallucinating when I thought I saw footsteps. After all, they've just disappeared, right in the center of this space! It's creeping me out. What happened to their owner? The sun is fading away now too, filling the sky with an eerie greyish-orange glow. I hug my blazer tighter around me.

All of a sudden, a door bangs loudly, and I hear a scream that makes my blood run cold, before it is cut off abruptly by something - or someone. For a moment, I stand there wide-eyed like a deer caught in headlights, too scared to move a single muscle. My brain is not processing anything. It _can't_ process anything. Then, a loud, cruel laugh booms in the silence to my right, and functioning on nothing but instinct, I dart underneath a giant scrap of metal, hissing in pain as its knife-like edge slices my thigh. It's not a moment too early though, as I peek up to glimpse a burly man, maybe in his late twenties, shirtless and covered in tattoos, stalk past with a self-satisfied smirk on his scarred face. I'm trembling right now, sweating profusely. I don't know what's going on, but whatever it is, I really, _really_ don't want to be here. I'm scared shitless.

As the sound of the man's combat boots stomping on the ground dies down, I finally release a shaky breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Something scurries across my foot - a rat, maybe, and I yelp, jolting up only to bang my head on top of the scrap.

"Shit!" I groan through clenched teeth. Now there's blood running down my face, mixing with sweat and getting into my eyes. The last thing I want is to lose too much blood and faint in this place. Unfortunately, that soon seems like a not-so-bad option, as I hear more footsteps coming my way.

"Hey, did you hear that noise?" a gruff voice calls out to someone else. They're probably in league with the guy I just saw. I cringe, cursing myself. Why did I have to be so clumsy?

"What are you talking about? It was just the wind, dumbass!" a haughty reply shoots back. I'm almost relieved, until he goes on. "Or are you too scared you're going to hell for rape?" the man snickers.

"Shut up asshole, you know that's not it."

At this point, I can hear my own heart pounding in my chest. 'Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.' My mind is stuck. Like a broken record. Panic. Curse. Panic. Curse. I close my eyes, wishing more than anything else that I could just disappear. I don't know what to do. Involuntarily, I imagine Father taunting me, making snide remarks about what a coward I am. 'If I were in your shoes, I'd march right up to them and show them their place, not be a pussy like you! Ha, what a disgrace of a son I have!' I cringe at his spiteful tone, head bowed in shame.

* * *

It's pitch black outside by the time I finally get the nerve to crawl out of my hiding place, covered with dirt and cobwebs. My thigh is burning, and the dried blood on my face feels disgusting. I'm praying to gods I don't believe in that the men from earlier have left. But I can't stay back any longer. I'm sure the rats are going to make a meal out of me if I don't move, and I'd rather die from a bullet than be eaten alive. I lay panting on the cold, hard ground. Everything hurts. There's not a single star in sight - only dark clouds, obscuring even the moonlight. I don't know if I'll find my way back. But there's really no other choice.

I try to stand up on shaky legs, groaning as my wounded thigh protests in agony. Gritting my teeth, I clutch the sides of the factory, depending on it as support. I squeeze my eyes shut and limp forward inch by inch, labored breathing too loud in the cold silence.

It's during the last stretch of the abandoned town, when the woods are in clear sight, that fate decides to deal me yet another cruel hand. I spot a faint gleam of yellow light streaming out of a nearby door, sickeningly bright against the midnight sky. The thugs' raucous laughter pierces cruelly through the stillness of the night. My knees are shaking, and I'm vaguely aware of a stinging pain as I bite my lip roughly, the metallic taste of blood coating my tongue. I need to somehow pass by their open door unnoticed to make it out of this nightmare. But is that really possible?

I'm shivering like I've lost all control over my own body. I don't even know why I'm so petrified. Closing my eyes, I force myself to take in slow, deep breaths, focusing on Mother ... on Yue, imagining that she's waiting for me at home. That she's worried, wondering what happened to her beloved nii-san. I have to get through this for her. To make sure that I don't disappoint her. I'm brave. She thinks I'm brave. That I'm admirable. I can't fail.

And that's when it hits me - damn, am I an idiot! The backside! Why didn't I think of that yet? I'll just go from the back of the factory. There - door avoided. Thugs avoided. Problem solved.

My eyes flutter open and I square my jaw, determined not to give up yet. My arms and legs haven't ceased to tremble, but I feel more focused. Every part of me is begging to get away from this all. Still, I refuse to become afraid. Around me, fat droplets of rain have started to fall from the heavy storm clouds overhead. The desolate sound of their unyielding patter against the hollow metal rings through the chilly air. My clothes are soaked, clinging to my bony frame. The cold of the rain seeps into my body. Water is streaming down the sides of the factory. It's getting harder and harder for me to get a good grip, and soon enough I falter, collapsing to the slimy mud.

For a few moments, I stay like that on all fours, too winded to get up and continue moving forward. But time is slipping away. The sooner I reach the city, the better. Not bothering to get back up, I continue to crawl forward, knees dragging in the wet dirt.

Slowly but surely, the forest - my sweet saviour - gets closer and closer until it is only a dash away. I feel a rush of adrenaline once more, my emotions gripping almost painfully at my heart. Is it still too early to hope? No, it can't be. It's going to be okay. I just have to believe it …

But then suddenly, nothing's okay.

Out of nowhere, the side of the factory comes crashing into my body with unbelievable force, knocking the wind out of me, and I'm sent tumbling, skidding over the wet ground. I have no idea what happened. Was there an earthquake? Shit! What happened!? I can't see anything. Oh. I lift my face from the mud, and immediately wish I hadn't. Fuck. No. This can't be happening.

It was a door. One of those men opened a back door and tossed out … a corpse!?

Laying on the ground in front of me is the mangled naked body of a young girl, once-porcelain skin dyed blue and purple from abuse. I can't see her face, but cuts and scrapes mar the tender flesh; mud smeared across her body. Her hands are bound roughly with rope. There's a pool of blood between her legs, streaks of deep red painted across her still quivering thin thighs.

Wait. Still quivering? At this, I gasp in trepidation, eyes widening. Crap. She's alive. Shit. Again, I can hear Father yelling viciously in my head. Heart racing a mile a minute, I grit my teeth and roll my hands into fists, nails digging into my own palms. Right now, I'm still safe. By some miracle, they still haven't discovered my existence. But this girl … I can't just leave her here, can I? Fuck. Fuck everything.

Somehow, without thinking, I find myself crouched close to her shuddering frame, as if drawn by a magnet. I'm slightly conscious that I'm hyperventilating as I reach out with a tremoring hand to graze her shoulder. And oh gods, she screams so desperately, full of anguish - the very same scream that made my blood run cold before. Her head whips around to face me, her shadowed eyes full of sheer terror.

The back door slams open again, the bright light eating through the darkness that concealed us. "Shut up, you filthy whore!" someone snarls, shooting in our direction. I stifle my own scream as I bolt up, sprinting away. But I make the mistake of looking back one last time, and in the light I can now see what I couldn't before - red lips and a pair of amethyst eyes. Identical to mine.

My stomach lurches. I think I'm going to hurl. The world shatters, crumbling to pieces around me.

* * *

I'm aware of nothing as I keep running except for a constant throbbing pain in my chest, a wrenching in my gut. Vaguely, I'm sure my thigh must be burning, that the branches are scratching my face, that I can taste the salt of my tears. But I can't feel any of it. Only the constant throbbing pain, only the wrenching in my gut. My mind is still trying to grasp at broken fragments of reality, but to no avail. Everything keeps slipping out of my fingertips.

Yue's dead because of me. Because I abandoned her. No. I killed her by abandoning her when I could've stayed. I killed her. My own sister.

I'm not sure how or when I reach home. The security system blares as I barge in, but I don't care anymore.

I'm a coward. Despicable. Revolting. Father is right. I don't deserve to exist.

So then, I'll finally make things right.

Grabbing his prized possession, an antique, fully loaded Wilmot gun straight from its mounted display, I pull the trigger.

* * *

A/N :

Hmm, what did you think?

But in all seriousness, I'm worried if the plot was too predictable? ... Was it too predictable? Please leave a review and honestly let me know if it was/wasn't … and if so, at what point it became that way, and possibly any suggestions to fix it? I'd sincerely appreciate any help with this … Thank you.


	5. Acceptance

A/N:  
This is back to the "present" now, thus the change back to 3rd person narration.  
Warning: fluff followed by a small lime (rated M)

* * *

Ikkaku simply stared at Yumichika, too stunned to speak, watching as the other averted his gaze, fidgeting nervously. He could tell that the fifth seat still had something on his mind - something he still needed to say. Well, Ikkaku had all the time in the world to wait. He wasn't going to rush it. Sensing Yumichika's insecurity, he gently wrapped his arms around his thin frame. Yumi stiffened, but didn't protest, so Ikkaku pulled him closer, relieved to feel him slowly relax into the embrace.

Shifting slightly, the smaller man lifted his eyes to Ikkaku's for just a moment, before turning away again.

"Well," he began quietly, a little tremor to his voice, "I guess I had so many regrets from when I was alive, the memories stuck with me even after dying. I-In Rukongai, I tried to atone for my sins by selling my body for next to nothing to … to ugly men, because -" he sniffled, tears welling in his eyes. "Because the men who raped my sister were all ugly, and I let it happen, so I'm ugly," he finished shakily. Pausing for a breath, he continued slowly.

"But … but that's why I became so obsessed with beauty. A-And when I met you, you were so brave and strong and caring, that I thought - no, I _still_ think - that you're so beautiful, and I … I'm always ashamed of myself … that I'm a burden, that I don't deserve you. But I don't want you to le-leave me, so I never wanted you to know my past," at this, Yumichika couldn't control his emotions any longer, and he burst into tears, trying to hide his face in his hands.

Ikkaku's eyes widened, and he caressed his dearest's cheek, gingerly wiping away the tears with his thumb. "Yumichika, you're not ugly. I would never think you're ugly. You're the most beautiful person ever."

Said shinigami glanced up briefly, dark amethyst orbs meeting slate grey ones. "No, I'm not, Ikkaku," he sobbed, "don't lie just to make me feel better."

"Yumichika, I honestly mean it," Ikkaku insisted. Struggling for a few seconds to find the right words to convey his feelings properly, he went on. "It takes a lot of courage to be so honest, and you laid your soul bare, even though you were so scared. I might be tough on the outside … But I don't think I could ever do that, like you just did."

He cupped the fifth seat's chin in his hands, forcing him to look into his own eyes. "Yumichika, you're _not at all_ a burden. In fact, I've come this far only because you're with me, at my side. I can't make it without you. We're all damaged in our own ways … It's not your fault at all - and I'm sure Yue has already forgiven you long ago."

Yumichika raised his head. "Ikka, do you really mean it?" he whispered, afraid to believe him, thinking it too good to be true.

"Of course I do! I love you, Yumi," Ikkaku replied sincerely, not a single shred of hesitation in his words.

This time, tears of happiness rolled down Yumichika's cheeks as he wrapped his arms around the other. "I love you too, Ikkaku," he smiled. "Thank you for accepting me."

He reached up and tenderly kissed his lover, moulding their lips together, moaning softly as Ikkaku pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. The older man ran his tongue over Yumichika's lower lip, smirking as the fifth-seat shivered, giving him access to a sweet, inviting mouth. His eyes fluttered close as their tongues entwined in a slow, sensual dance, and everything else was quickly forgotten.

Careful not to break the kiss, Ikkaku gently slid a hand underneath the other's robes, caressing the strong, sensitive thighs, and Yumichika gasped, a blush adorning his face. Ikkaku chuckled, taking one more taste of Yumi's soft lips before carrying him onto the bed, eagerly tugging loose the obi holding his yukata in place. Once the meddling garment was out of the way, he stopped for a moment to admire the graceful form that lay bare before him, eyes hungrily taking in every inch of Yumi's body, from his flushed face and swollen lips, down the smooth, creamy skin of his chest, to the long, supple legs, and up again.

"Ikkaku," Yumichika mumbled, cheeks painted scarlet, "Would you stop staring at me like a starved animal?"

"Hmm," Ikkaku licked his lips, grinning at the poorly thought-out insult, "but you know, I _am_ going to be having you for dinner tonight, Yumi," he purred huskily, running his tongue over the shell of his ear.

Yumichika's breath hitched and he arched up involuntarily, somehow not able to argue, letting Ikkaku continue to leave a trail of butterfly kisses over his neck.

He licked the tender skin before biting down hard and sucking roughly, eliciting helpless mewls and gasps from the beautiful man below him.

"Ahh, Ikka-" Yumichika shuddered, his hands clasping the third-seat's broad shoulders for support as he bucked his hips against him, groaning in pleasure.

Ikkaku growled as Yumi's long nails dug into his back, drawing away only to attack his lips once more, this time in a passionate, demanding kiss.

The smaller shinigami yelped in surprise as a calloused palm squeezed his ass firmly, practised fingers greedily exploring the soft flesh, and Ikkaku wasted no time in plunging his tongue into the other's mouth, claiming every part of that moist, wet cavern for himself.

Yumichika trembled beneath him, moaning into the kiss as Ikkaku's hands travelled back up to pull at his raven locks, entangling themselves in the silky strands.

Refusing to be completely outdone, he slipped his own slim hands over his partner's tanned shoulders, yanking down the worn grey robes in one fluid motion to trace his well-defined body. He let his fingers roam over the perfectly chiseled broad chest, following the contours of the strong muscles, smirking as they rippled invitingly at his touch.

The third seat held in a groan as Yumichika teased him, slowly trailing his fingers over his abs, only to stop just before the waistline of his boxers. He could feel him smirking, and he growled quietly in return.

Before Yumi had a chance to argue, Ikkaku trapped both his wrists in a tight grip, holding them securely over his head.

"Ikkaku, what are you - Ahh!" his whimper of protest was cut short as said shinigami now began to assault the smooth ivory expanse of his chest, exploring the flawless skin with his tongue and lips. He licked down Yumi's sternum, biting and sucking at the sweet spot right in the middle, smirking as the slender man shuddered under him. He bit hard enough to make Yumi gasp in surprise but not enough to draw blood, before licking the new mark, sure to leave behind a hickey against the pale skin.

Yumichika was his. And his alone.

Ikkaku paused before flicking a hardened pink nub with his fingers, making Yumichika moan in both pleasure and pain, bucking his hips against the bigger shinigami.

"Ikka, be gentler," he mewled, digging his nails deeper into Ikkaku's muscular shoulders. The third seat consented, taking the nipple into his mouth and sucking softly in apology as he teased its pair, swirling his finger around the pink bud, tracing every part except the one that most wanted his attention.

Yumichika squirmed, panting, a deep blush creeping up his cheeks as Ikkaku continued his ministrations. He arched up as Ikkaku's warm, wet tongue swirled around his nipple, pulling it deeper into the hot mouth. A string of moans escaped his mouth and he shamelessly ground his already stiff cock against Ikkaku's, desperate for more contact.

Ikkaku groaned as Yumichika kept wriggling underneath him, the friction between their pulsing members pushing him that much closer to abandoning self-control. He growled, yanking off his boxers before smashing his lips onto Yumichika's in a searing kiss and grinding back down, their bare bodies already slick with sweat.

The fifth seat shivered as Ikkaku ran his hands over his chest and down his abs, his cock twitching in anticipation. He gasped into the kiss and felt Ikkaku smirk back before suddenly pulling away.

Yumichika whined in protest at the loss of contact, pouting as third seat looked back in apology.

"Sorry, can't figure out where the lube is," he admitted sheepishly, breathless.

"Hmm, always killing the mood, Ikka," Yumichika stuck his tongue out, earning a laugh from the bald shinigami. "Come 'ere," he ordered.

Ikkaku raised an eyebrow before coming back closer, wondering what exactly the beauty was thinking.

He realized it soon enough, as Yumichika brought his hand to his mouth, sucking on his fingers. He coated each digit with saliva, swirling his tongue around them lewdly. His eyes fluttered shut before he looked back up at Ikkaku, lust coloring his irises deep amethyst. "Mmm, you taste so good, Ikka," he panted.

Ikkaku blushed and felt his cock throb, the slutty words going straight to his groin.

"Fuck, Yumi!" He husked, "That's enough, already!"

"Aye, aye, captain," Yumichika fucking _winked_ at him, before dropping down onto the bed, kneeling so that his ass was raised just for Ikkaku. The fifth seat looked back at him, grinning coyly and biting his lips before spreading his own cheeks, giving Ikkaku a perfect view of his perfect, pink asshole.

"Come on, captain," Yumichika husked, "Take me to heaven." As if to reaffirm that, the tight ring chose just that moment to twitch invitingly, and Ikkaku almost lost it.

But, he restrained himself.

Gently, he flipped Yumichika over so that his back was against the silky sheets, and the two lovers were now face to face. Ikkaku placed a soft, chaste kiss on his lips before tenderly cupping Yumichika's face in his own hands. He searched the deep purple orbs, watching them flicker with emotion as a rosy blush crept up their owner's cheeks.

"Yumichika, I love you," Ikkaku stated simply, his gaze steady, unwavering.

Yumichika shivered at the words, unable to stop his eyes from welling up with tears. He had thought this would be plain old make-up sex and had been trying his best to play his part, but Ikkaku was there to show him that his feelings mattered too - it wasn't just the sex.

It was making love.

A genuine smile tugged at the corners of the beauty's lips as he whispered back, "I love you, too, Ikkaku".

END

* * *

A/N:  
Phew, so I just completed my first fanfic (along with failed attempts at writing a smut scene).  
Wellll, so I know what _I_ think about the story ... I'd like to know what _you_ thought. I'd really, really appreciate some feedback telling me what you liked, or didn't like that much, and what I should do better next time. (:  
Anyways, thank you for reading, and I hope it didn't disappoint too much.  
~ cloudosaurus


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